Tears of Blood
by Nilhuine
Summary: The young prince of Mirkwood and his friends barely escape a warg attack, but his cousin is left an orphan. He grows up with his relative he never knew he had, but will the elf be the nice big brother he expected? Chapter 6 finally up!
1. A Bloody Beginning

Okay, this was a completely random idea which popped into my head last night… It's yet another story of Legolas' childhood. It doesn't match up at all with my other Legolas'-childhood story, 'The True Prince of Mirkwood', but oh well.

I was going to use this title for a different fic, but I changed my mind… ;

But you know: whatever.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's genius writings/works. I do own two certain elflings in this fic, as well as another young elf and two more older ones. But one of then dies, so…

Hope you like it…

Heheh… this is really quite PG13…

Tears of Blood

Chapter One: A Bloody Beginning

It was a clear day in spring in the great forest of Mirkwood. The birds sang joyfully in the trees, the trees were a beautiful green, and the flowers were in full bloom, giving off a fresh, sweet scent. Laughter echoed through the trees, letting the woodland creatures know that three little elflings were coming down the lane. A small squirrel scurried under a tree root as the trio raced past.

"You're it, Legolas!" The one who brought up the rear chortled as he grabbed at the other's tunic, barely touching his arm. Legolas put on an extra burst of speed to try to catch up with his other friend. He had to tag him because they were playing with no tag-backs. "You'll never catch Suithór, Legolas!" The one bringing up the rear laughed. "He's too fast!"

Legolas knew his friend, Hweston, was right; Suithór was probably the fastest elf in all of Mirkwood. He was determined to try though. He made a swipe at the elf's long, brown hair, missing it completely. He leaned forward, trying to push some speed on while still watching his footing. There would be no end to the teasing if he tripped again.

"You'll never catch me!" Suithór boasted as he ran. He turned his head to check on Legolas' progress. The elf was still about three feet behind him, and still losing. Turning his head, he soon found, wasn't the smartest idea if he wanted to win. "Whoa!" Suithór looked forward just as he tripped, tumbling down a small hill.

"Gotcha now!" Legolas realized the hill in time, lunging rather than tripping down it, and landing on top of his friend. "You're it!" Legolas said triumphantly.

"Oh no!" Hweston appeared at the top of the hill, realizing that he was the next target.

The one flaw with the game was that Legolas always had to go for Suithór, Suithór always had to go for Hweston, and Hweston always had to go for Legolas. That was what happened when you only had three people to play the game.

"I'm gonna get you now!" Suithór jumped up, dumping Legolas on the ground before running after Hweston.

"You'd better run, West!" Legolas cried, grabbing at Suithór's leg and giving his other friend a head start. Hweston's nickname was 'West' because it was easier to say than 'Hwest'. When Legolas had been smaller, he hadn't been able to even say the name.

The game went on for some time. The elflings ran further and further into the woods, not realizing how far they were going from home or how late it was getting.

The three finally stopped, all collapsing in a small ditch. They lay there panting until Legolas looked up through the trees, realizing that the sun was setting.

"Ai! We must go home!" He jumped to his feet, quickly followed by the other two. They started to run towards the palace, knowing that their mothers would have their hides for sure. Legolas was more worried about his father though. He would get mad whenever Legolas was out too late. The elfling tried to think of a good excuse, but he wasn't coming up with anything. His thoughts were interrupted by a long, low howl.

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks, his blood running cold. That was no wolf. It was a warg, or he was a horse's rear-end. It was a warg, and it was close. Also, Legolas had never heard of a warg traveling alone. There would be at least three more.

"Was that—a warg?" Hweston voiced both his and Suithór's thoughts in a whisper. The other two had stopped as well, their no longer merry eyes wide in terror. Legolas nodded slowly, reaching for his twin blades. Suithór pulled out his saber and Hweston his throwing knives.

"Let's try to make a run for it." Suithór whispered, taking on the role of the leader since he was the oldest. The other two nodded, though they doubted they would make it. They had no other choice really. They could try to find a cave or tree and hide, but they might be stuck there to either starve or be the wargs' meal anyway. No mater what direction they went in it would probably end in three dead elflings, unless the Vala were feeling merciful. The three took off; taking what seemed like the most sensible answer. It went well at first, though all three of them were still stiff with terror. The each ran as fast as they could, which meant Suithór took an easy lead, with Legolas second and Hweston barely keeping up. The poor elf wasn't the most athletic, even though he had an excellent eye. He could easily beat the other two in an archery contest.

"They're after us!" Legolas looked back when he heard the frantic voice of Hweston behind him. Sure enough, through the trees he could just make out the shape of a large warg. It was getting darker, so it was harder to see now. Legolas turned his head again, trying to focus on going faster. His focus was cut off as a scream tore through the cool night air.

Legolas halted in his tracks, looking back. The sight made his stomach do flip-flops.

A warg, though a smaller one, was on top of his friend, trying to get to Hweston's throat. The elfling was desperately swiping at the dog's nose with his blades. The warg's claws came out, digging into Hweston's chest. He screamed again, but didn't stop waving his daggers. Legolas, not thinking before he acted as his tutor had been trying to teach him, rushed forward, determined to help his friend.

Before he reached the warg, he was pummeled by another dog. She was a bit bigger, and she easily pushed his small weight to the ground. He gave a cry as the wind was knocked clean out of him. He felt one of his knives leave his hand as the canine's huge paw pushed down on his breast. He gasped for air, but none came. The dog's weight on his lungs weren't allowing any air in. Legolas swiped at the warg's nose, cutting into it. She jerked away from it, but didn't take her massive paw off of him. She swiped her paw back at him, her claws out. He yelled in pain as the claws scraped across his shoulder and neck. The yell was more of a squeak though; he had no air in his lungs to make a real noise.

"Oh no! Legolas! Hweston!" Legolas heard his other friend. He had apparently just turned back. Legolas dropped his other knife, clawing at the dog's paw. It was stupid, but Legolas' head was light, he was panicking and he was having trouble thinking, or even staying conscious. The warg growled, her saliva dripping on Legolas' face. He hardly noticed. What the elfling did notice was the black spots appearing in his vision.

Suddenly, there was a yell, and something broke through the trees. Legolas tried to look around, finding more wargs. But he also saw something else.

A tall horse bearing a fair rider, his long, blonde lock waving out behind him had just appeared at the edge of the clearing. Legolas wasn't sure if it was real or not; he was a bit too dizzy to even realize the pain ripping through his shoulder again. He heard some dull clashing, and then suddenly the warg fell off of him. He gasped, sitting up as the air rushed into his lungs. He coughed, trying to take in as much air as he could. A hand grabbed him up by his left arm (the one the warg hadn't torn apart), leading him away. Legolas was pushed into a tree, where he sat for a moment.

When he looked up, he soon saw his rescuer. The tall, blonde elf was pulling his friends away from the wargs. He fought valiantly, blocking almost every blow with apparent ease. There was another fighting with him, but he was younger and not so experienced. The two fought off the wargs, soon felling most of them. Then, there was four left. The younger elf fought one, the older elf fought two, while the last, apparently the pack leader, circled them. She watched the older on intently, soon moving in.

Legolas tried to warn the elf, but he found that his voice was nearly gone. The younger elf finished off his last one as the older finished off the two he was working. But the leader was already in mid-air.

"No!" The younger one saw the warg, but it was too late. The tall one was knocked over as the warg bit into his shoulder. Legolas had to put his hands over his ears as the elf screamed louder than Legolas had ever heard anyone scream. He watched in horror as the warg pulled her head back, digging into the elf's neck instead. She chomped down hard. There was a loud _crack!_

"NO! ADA!" The younger elf jumped forward, baring his sword in anger. The warg turned though, swatting him away. He fell back, dropping his sword. The warg was about to claim her second victim, when an arrow whizzed through the trees, finding its mark in the warg's neck. She immediately dropped dead.

Legolas looked up as another horse rode into the clearing, bearing a rider much similar to the first. This one, Legolas recognized though. It was his father.

"Ada!" He jumped up, ignoring the intense pain in his shoulder. Thranduil jumped down from his horse, scooping his son into his arms as he ran to him.

"Shh, it's okay now, tithen pen." (little one) Thranduil whispered gently, rubbing his son's back as sobs racked the elfling's form. He walked over to the scene of the battle once he had looked at his son's friends. Suithór hardly had a scratch, though Hweston's wounds were very bad. Thranduil knew that he would die if they didn't get them back soon.

The scene in the clearing was terrible; about eight dead wargs were scattered about. In the middle of the carcasses, in the middle of the dead filth, were the fallen elf and the younger one.

He strode over through the warg carcasses, where he came to where the youth was sobbing over the form of his fallen companion. Thranduil didn't recognize the boy, so he tried to turn the bloody body over.

"Eruant?" He immediately recognized his younger brother's face. Thranduil stood as Legolas saw the dead elf's body, and whimpered. "Who are—" Thranduil started to ask the youth, but then he recognized him too. "Naegion? Is that you?" He hadn't seen his nephew since he was still a toddler, so it was shocking to see how much he'd grown. The elf gave his uncle a dark look, but he nodded.

"Hir nin!" Thranduil's soldiers had arrived on the scene, though they had been checking on Suithór and Hweston. "We should leave; the children need medical attention." Thranduil nodded, now fully noticing the blood which was staining his tunic, though it belonged to his son rather than him. He carried Legolas over to one of his guards, handing him over despite the whimper Legolas gave.

"Naegion, you should come with us." Thranduil bent next to his brother's dead body where his nephew still wept.

"I'm not leaving him to rot!" The elf pulled his father's limp form onto his lap. The elf's head was bent in a very unnatural way.

"We don't have time to bury him, and burning him would cause a large forest fire. Come on, we can take you to where you can get some rest and food and shelter…" Thranduil put his hands on Naegion's shoulders, trying to pull him up gently.

"No! I won't let scavengers feast on him!" The young elf pulled away from his uncle.

"You must come with us!" Thranduil pulled the elf to his feet by lifting him under his arms.

"NO! I'M STAYING RIGHT HERE UNTIL HE'S BURRIED!" The elf yelled, his voice carrying quite far.

"Naegion!" Thranduil leaned down, holding the boy's face in his hands. "We don't have time! You're hurt," He said, noticing how the youth hid his injured arm in his cloak. "And we must get back."

"No!" Naegion's voice was weakening slowly. Thranduil grabbed the elf under his knees, lifting him and carrying him away with only a small struggle.

"Adar…" Naegion sobbed over Thranduil's shoulder. The group got onto their horses quickly. Legolas whined when he had to ride with his tutor, Galu, rather than his father, but he was too tired to protest for too long. He soon drifted into sleep as they rode on into the night.

Whew! This story was completely random! Yay!

Okay, just to clear this up: Legolas would be about the equivalent of a four or five-year-old at this point, and Naegion is about the same as a twelve or thirteen-year-old. In upcoming chapters that will change, though.

Please R&R!


	2. The Beginning of Recovery

Lalala…

Okay, thanks to everybody for the support. Replies to reviews:

ElindielStargazer: Thanks so much!

MDarKspIrIt: Thanks, yeah, you're certainly going to see a lot of interaction between Naegion and Legolas… I won't give anything away though…

Okay, the next few chapters were written on a spree. I wrote I think five or six chapters in one day… I was sick and I had NOTHING else to do… So, hopefully it was a good spree…

I will be updating less frequently since I don't quite have it all finished. Actually, I don't have much of it at all… On The True Prince of Mirkwood, however, I have written quite a bit already, though there's still quite a bit more which I don't know when I'll get done. Ever since I started this story, I haven't done much of anything else as far as writing goes… So, I will try my best to keep both stories updated, but we'll just see. I think this will be shorter than The True Prince of Mirkwood, so this might be done first even though I started on TPM before this… So, enjoy…

Tears of Blood

Chapter Two: The Beginning of Recovery

Thranduil looked down at the elf in front of him. His nephew wasn't holding up well through the ride home. Legolas and the other two elflings were fast asleep, but Naegion still stayed conscious. He was obviously in pain, making moans and groans every time there was a bump. Thankfully, the king could see the gates to the palace up ahead, though, so the elf could soon sleep easy, he hoped.

They soon reached them, clomping loudly over the stone bridge. Thranduil quickly dismounted, grabbing his nephew before heading for the healer's ward. Naegion moaned in pain, but allowed himself to be carried and placed on a bed. Thranduil gently pulled back the boy's cloak, revealing the elf's hurt arm. What he found made him hiss in worry.

A warg had obviously chewed on the limb. There were obvious teeth marks, and his lower arm was completely torn apart. His wrist was broken, and it looked like the warg's poison had seeped into the wound. Naegion gave a slight yell as the king lifted the limb to get a better look.

"How bad is it?" A healer strode in quickly, leaning down to get started immediately. "Ai, mani marte?" (What happened?) The healer asked, inspecting the appendage with skill.

"I—he… a warg…" Thranduil stuttered, finally getting out a good answer. The healer, whose name was Lathron, nodded, taking Naegion's arm in his long fingers. He scanned the wound with his eyes before going to get some herbs. Naegion groaned in pain again, holding his right arm with his good one.

"It's going to be okay." Thranduil assured, kneeling next to his nephew. "We're going to fix you up, and you can live here with us." He put a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. Naegion gave him an unbelieving look, but hissed as the pain increased again. Lathron returned, getting to work immediately. Thranduil backed out of the room; he needed to check on his son now.

When Legolas awoke, he found that his shoulder was wrapped in some soft, white bandages. He sat up, looking around the room.

It was bright as sunlight poured into the room through the open window. A big tapestry was hung on the wall, showing some of the beautiful Valier. Legolas looked down, finding soft sheets under him and clean pants on him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but the bandages made up for it.

"You're awake!" He looked over, finding who had said the soft comment. His mother was there, her beautiful face and crystal blue eyes framed by wavy, silky, golden locks. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly, leaning forward to sit next to him. She felt his forehead, which Legolas now noticed was hot. "You got a bit of warg poison in you." She explained. The queen of Mirkwood grabbed a small phial from the table next to the bed. It was filled with a bluish liquid. She opened it, holding it up to her son's lips. He crinkled his nose at the smell, turning away. "Come on, Legolas; if you don't drink it you won't get better." She tipped the bottle up, making a bit of the stuff trickle down his throat. "Swallow it, tithen pen." (little one) It tasted horrible, but he swallowed it obediently.

"Are Suithór and Hweston alright?" Legolas asked, sitting up some more.

"Aye, they're—fine." The queen's tone of voice wasn't completely convincing, which Legolas caught.

"Can I see them?" He tried to get up, but his mother pushed him back.

"Maybe later…" She said, pulling him into her arms.

"But I want to see them now!" Legolas tried to struggle out of his mother's lap. "Please, Nanneth?" He resorted to begging, using the all-powerful puppy-dog face. He knew it was hard for his mother to resist that. "Pleeeeeeease?"

The queen sighed. She hated seeing her son beg like that; she could never resist it, and her son obviously knew that by now.

"Fine, but you can't stay too long." The little elf's face lit up as his mother lifted him, sliding him to her hip as she took him out of the room. They went down the hall to another room much like the one Legolas had been in. Suithór sat next to the bed, and Hweston lay on the bed. Hweston didn't look as good as Suithór did, though. His torso was completely wrapped in bandages, and the right side of his face was too.

"Legolas! At least you're okay." Suithór greeted his friend with a slight smile. Legolas scrambled out of his mother's arms, trotting over to peer over the side of the bed. Hweston acknowledged him, but didn't speak or smile. "He's really sick." Suithór said glumly.

"He hopefully should be better in a few days, but he'll need to stay in bed for a while." Hweston's father told the two elflings.

"Well, you have to get better real soon." Legolas told the elf with a sad smile. The edges of Hweston's lips lifted slightly, but he didn't speak or make his smile any bigger; it would obviously hurt because of the gashes across his face.

"Maybe we should just let him rest." Legolas turned at the voice, finding his father at the door.

"Ada!" He trotted over to his father, who scooped him up in his arms.

"Come on; let's leave him to sleep for a while. He'll never get better if you keep him up all day." Thranduil carried his son out of the room, followed by Suithór. Thranduil took Legolas to his own room, where he laid him on the bed. "Maybe you should have a nap too, Legolas." He stroked his son's hair gently.

"But I just woke up!" Legolas shook his head. "I want to go play with Suithór!"

"Okay, but don't do anything too rough." Thranduil said. Legolas jumped up and started to head for the door, but was stopped by his father. Thranduil took Legolas' face in his hand gently but firmly, looking him in the eye. "And don't go outside the palace. If you want to play outside, go in the gardens. But I will not tolerate running, archery competitions, play-sword-fighting, wrestling, or climbing high trees." Thranduil laid down his conditions.

"But then we can't do anything!" Legolas argued.

"No, you can still play with your toys inside. I just don't want you getting any more hurt than you are, okay?" Thranduil kissed his son on his forehead once the elfling had submitted to the terms. The king let the elfling go, watching as he disappeared down the hall. Now he just needed to tell Galu to keep an eye on the two, and they'd be fine.

"How's he doing?" Thranduil asked in a whisper as he slipped into the dark room. His nephew had been very sick from the warg poisoning, and his arm was only getting worse and worse.

"Not well." The healer admitted. "The wounds are not looking good at all." Lathron stepped towards the bed, motioning for the king to follow. The healer pulled back the bandages slightly, showing the king Naegion's arm. The open parts of the wounds were turning black around the edges, and there was some yellowy puss dripping sluggishly out of them. Thranduil turned away in disgust. "I fear we may have to amputate it." He said quietly so he wouldn't wake the still sleeping youth on the bed.

"Amputate it? But then he'd never be able to use a blade again unless he learned to use his left hand." Thranduil sighed stressfully as he sat down on a chair next to the bed.

"I know, but it's either that or the poison and the infection spreads and he dies. It's not a hard choice; lose his arm or his life." Lathron said, standing from where he had been kneeling by the low bed.

"Is there any chance of him keeping both?" Thranduil asked. He wasn't sure he wanted his nephew who he was taking in as his son to be held back because of this.

"If the medicine works, then possibly. But it's very unlikely. Even if it did, it's very possibly that he wouldn't be able to use his arm anyway. I wouldn't suggest waiting around to see; he might be dead by then." Lathron gave Thranduil the ugly truth.

"Let's wait a few days then." Thranduil didn't want the elf to have to lose something so important.

"But hir nin—"

"Just a few days, Lathron. If it's not any better, then cut it off. I just want to give him a chance." Thranduil stood, leaving the healer with his nephew. On the way out, he ran into his wife.

"What are you doing? Who's in there?" Thranduil had failed to tell his wife about the elf yet.

"Meril," He addressed his wife by her name as almost no one else did. "Do you remember my brother, Eruant?" The elf-maiden nodded. "Well, he saved our son and his friends yesterday."

"Oh my! Is he in there? Is he hurt…?" Meril didn't let her husband finish.

"Melath Love, I'm not finished." Thranduil placed his hands on her small shoulders gently. "He died for our son. He was traveling with his son apparently and came upon the three of them with the wargs." Meril was obviously in shock. "But his son did survive—barely. That's who's in there."

"Is he alright?" She asked, trying to get a look past her husband into the dark room.

"He's—holding up. But he's an orphan now, and we'll have to take care of him until he's older." Thranduil explained. He knew that his wife knew about Eruant's wife; Naegion's mother. She had been killed by evil men after they had kidnapped her and raped her. Eruant had tried in vain to save her. By the time he had gotten there, she was already dead. Thankfully, they hadn't killed Naegion. She had been pregnant when they had kidnapped her, and had given birth just before they killed her. They planned on using the child, and raising him as their own warrior, but when Eruant found out about it, he didn't hesitate in taking the baby back. Eruant had been in sorrow, and probably would have sailed to Valinor if he hadn't had Naegion left. That was the reason he named him Naegion; pain. He had raised the child single-handedly, but now Naegion was all on his own, except for his aunt and uncle.

"Of course." Meril nodded. "I would be ashamed not to help that poor boy. He's been through so much, though I'm sure he doesn't remember most of it."

"There's another thing though." Thranduil said, looking down at his toes briefly. "He was badly wounded in the battle; we think a warg chewed on his arm. Literally, it chewed on his arm. It's poisoned, and we may have to—cut it off…"

Meril gasped slightly. "Is it that bad? Is there nothing else they can do?" She asked, her small hand at her mouth in worry.

"Aye. We're going to wait a few days to see if he will get any better, but if he doesn't and we don't amputate it, then he'll die." Thranduil explained the predicament.

Meril nodded slowly. "I understand. Better a limb than a life, I suppose." She said softly.

After a short silence, Thranduil finally spoke again. "Perhaps we should go find our son so we can have dinner, hmm?" He slid his arm around his wife's shoulder, leading her away from the hall.

This one's pretty long to make up for the shorter ones in the future…

Please R&R! I don't post more chapters unless I know somebody's reading…


	3. Brothers

Here we go

Okay, sorry it's been so long since I updated. I've been busy, and we went on vacation and stuff. Sorry to leave you guys hangin' for so long…

Um, I don't know if I explained before; Legolas is supposed to be the equivalent of a like, maybe six-year-old and Naegion's like a thirteen-year-old.

I don't own Tolkien's stuff, yadda yadda, and even my original characters in this story I do not own their names because Tolkien made the language.

Review Replies:

The only review I got was from MDarKspIrIt and all I can say is: um, keep reading!

Tears of Blood

Chapter Three: Brothers

"There's nothing left to do." Legolas complained as he and Suithór sat on a stone bench in one of the gardens in the palace.

"Well, we could play with your wooden people." Suithór suggested.

"We already did that yesterday and the day before!" Legolas shook his head. The action-figures were getting old.

"Um, we could… have an archery competition!" Suithór was trying to think of everything they usually did.

"No, my Ada told me not to." Legolas shook his dark head. He didn't always like his father's rules, but he was raised well and stayed obedient to them—most of the time. "And anyway, we can't without Hweston. He always beats us, but it's no fun without him."

"I know! We could go to the dog-pen!" Suithór came up with a last idea.

"Okay! I'm pretty sure my _Ada_ wouldn't mind that as long as we don't wrestle with them." Legolas said as they jumped up, trotting down to where the animals were kept. The king's hunting dogs were kept in a stable-like structure near the gates. The boys liked to play with the dogs sometimes. Even though they were for hunting, they were quite friendly, since they were under elvish influence.

The two elves stayed at the pen for almost two hours before getting bored again. Legolas lay down in the middle of the hay which covered the floor of the dog-pen. Suithór lay next to him, while a few of the dog curled up next to them.

It had been three day since the wargs. Hweston was doing better, but he still couldn't talk, and certainly couldn't come play with his friends. Legolas' father had told him about Naegion, though he hadn't met his cousin officially yet. His father said that he was very sick and didn't need any visitors right now. Legolas' thoughts wandered to his uncle now. He had been horrified when the elf had died in the forest, but now he felt very saddened thinking about him. He wished very much that he could have met his uncle. The last time his father had seen his uncle, Legolas hadn't even been born yet. In fact, the reason Thranduil had seen Eruant that time was for the wedding of Thranduil and Meril. Legolas had found this out the night before at dinner. His father had explained the whole thing to him. Legolas didn't have any other aunts, uncles, cousins, or even grandparents still alive. Legolas had never even had any siblings. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to have siblings. Now, he would have one; Naegion.

"What's it like to have a brother?" He asked Suithór, who had three older brothers. One was only about twenty years older than him, while the other two were already old enough to be in the army.

"Sometimes it's fun, but sometimes they're a pain in the butt!" Suithór said with a slight giggle. "Sirith is mean sometimes." Suithór said about the youngest of his older brothers. "He bullies me sometimes, but he still plays with me other times. Why?"

"Well, do you remember that boy who was with the warrior who saved us from the wargs?" Legolas asked. Suithór nodded, shivering as he remembered the day. "Well, he's my cousin. The one who saved us was his father, my uncle. But now he doesn't have an _ada_, so my _ada_ is going to take care of him until he can take care of himself." Legolas explained.

"Hmm. So you're going to have a big brother like me?" Legolas nodded. "You won't forget about us will you? And only play with him?" Suithór asked after a pause.

"Of course not!" Legolas sat up, giving his friend a playful slap on his chest. "I couldn't do that!"

"Good!" Suithór sat up too, giving Legolas a gentle push. "You're it!" He yelled playfully as he jumped up, heading for the door.

"Hey, no fair!" Legolas jumped up, chasing after the elfling. He trailed his friend through the garden until he bumped into a much taller somebody. He sprawled on the ground, giving a cry as his shoulder flared in pain. He looked up, finding his father looking down at him.

"Are you okay?" His father leaned down, trying to check if his son was hurt. Legolas scrambled to his feet.

"I'm fine…" He knew he was probably in trouble now.

"What did I say about running?"

"Sorry, _Ada_." Legolas bowed his head. He waited for the lecture, but it never came. Instead, his chin was lifted gently by a soft hand.

"Just try to be more careful next time. You're not better yet; you're still hurt." Thranduil patted Legolas' still-bandaged shoulder gently.

"So, you're not mad?" Legolas asked in surprise.

"Of course not. Why would I be mad?" Thranduil lifted his son gently in his arms. Suithór peered around the corner, trying to figure out why he was no longer getting chased.

"There you are! Is something wrong?" He noticed his friend's father there. He was unaware that it was the king; Legolas' identity was hidden for his safety.

"No, nothing's wrong." Thranduil set Legolas down gently. "Just don't run so much. Legolas still isn't all better yet. I don't want him to get hurt again." Thranduil let the elflings go. They trotted, rather than ran off into the garden to figure out something else to do. Thranduil watched the two disappear around the corner. "I don't want you to get hurt again…"

Thranduil slipped into the quiet room where his nephew was again. It was dark so that Naegion could rest better. The strong smell of herbs filled his nostrils as the king stepped in the door, closing it gently behind him. They had decided that if he wasn't improving by today (three days after they had been attacked), they would amputate his arm. Thranduil had decided that it would be best not to tell Naegion about this though.

"Naegion, how are you feeling?" The elf was awake, though he looked very uncomfortable. He groaned in response, shifting as the pain pulsed through his arm again. Thranduil laid a comforting hand on the boy's forehead. It was very hot and wet with sweat. He took his hand off, pulling back the bandages to look at the wounds. It was even worse than before.

The wounds, which went up to his elbow, looked like they were scabbing, but the scabs were black, which was obviously a bad sign. The yellowy puss hadn't stopped coming out, and was all over the place now. The hand, which had hardly been touched, amazingly enough, was covered in blackened blood and dried puss. Besides that it was white as death.

"Hir nin." Lathron tapped his shoulder, pulling him out of Naegion's ear-shot. "We'll need to drug him so we can get it done. Give him some of this." He handed the king a small bowl with a greenish liquid in it. "You can say it's for the pain. It is, but it will also knock him out."

Thranduil took the bowl, returning to the bed-side. "Here, drink some of this, Naeg." Thranduil lifted the bowl to the other's lips. "It's for the pain." The youth was already sipping it obediently before he said it. It was only a few short minutes before he was out cold. Lathron, along with another healer, picked him up off the bed, carrying him to another room. Thranduil followed them, but didn't enter the room. He knew he couldn't bear to watch what was about to happen. The healers went into the room, shutting the door behind them. Thranduil waited there until they had finished. He then helped them move the elf's limp body back to his bed.

They had already wrapped the stumpy limb in fresh bandages. He already looked to be sleeping more peacefully, Thranduil thought. He felt Naegion's forehead, finding that it was already not quite so hot. Hopefully, once they got him past the initial shock, he could get used it and learn to use his left hand for—well, everything. True, he would probably never shoot a bow again, but at least he wasn't dead.

Thranduil waited with the unconscious elf until he woke up. An hour later, he finally opened his eyes. Thranduil leaned in, setting a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, feeling Naegion's forehead again. The fever was almost completely gone.

"That wasn't just normal old pain-killer, was it?" He asked slowly with a soft smile.

"No, it wasn't." Thranduil admitted. He was trying to work out just how to break it to the youth that he wasn't going to be picking up a bow any time soon. In fact, he wouldn't be picking up anything with his right arm anytime soon…

But it seemed that he wasn't going to have to bring the topic up. Naegion stretched, but his brow furrowed in confusion. He started to sit up, but his eyes got wide as he realized he couldn't stretch his fingers on his right hand. He started to rip his arm out from under the covers, but Thranduil grabbed his arm.

"Before you look, just know that we had to do this for your safety." Thranduil said quickly. He waited to see if Naegion would nod his head to let him know he understood. When he didn't, Thranduil just let go of it. Naegion pulled his arm out from under the covers quickly.

Naegion's eyes went even wider in horror as he saw the remains of his arm. There was only about two inches left below his elbow. He gaped in dismay at it, feeling the bandages with his other hand as if he thought it was an optical illusion.

"What have you done to me…?"

So that's a bit of a cliffhanger… But you'll have to get used to them; I love them…


	4. New Acquaintances

Tears of Blood

Okay, I know I haven't updated in… FOREVER! Sorry about that… I've just been bust with ending school and we've had some out-of-town guests and stuff. I'm posting two chapters on his story today to both make up for that, and make up for this very short chapter.

Tears of Blood

Chapter Four: New Acquaintances

"What have you done to me?!" Naegion asked, looking down at his arm in horror. Or what was left of his arm, rather.

"We had no other choice, Naegion. If we hadn't cut it off, you would have died from the poison! We couldn't save you unless we cut it off." Thranduil tried to explain quickly.

"_You cut off my arm?!_" Naegion asked in horror, not taking his eyes off the bandaged appendage.

"I already told you; if we hadn't you would have died. It was either your arm or your life." Thranduil earnestly argued. It seemed so strange to him that now _he_ was the one arguing this point.

"But—how am I supposed to fight? How am I…? I can't do anything without—I…" Naegion trailed off, his eyes still glued to the stump.

"You still have a perfectly good left hand." Thranduil pointed out. "It will take some time, but eventually you'll be just as good a fighter with your left hand as you were with your right. I know plenty of elves who are left-handed who would be more than happy to teach you how to fight with your left hand." The king reassured.

"But… My arm!" The elf was obviously not over the shock quite yet.

"The main thing is: you'll live. Right now you just need to relax…" Thranduil eased the elf down onto the pillows. He resisted slightly, but in the end let himself be laid on the pillows. "What you need now is some dinner; what do you say?" Naegion didn't look up, and didn't nod. "I'll take that as a 'yes, I'm hungry'." Thranduil got up, heading to the kitchen. On the way, he ran into his wife.

"Where are you going, _Melath_?"(Love) She asked, touching his shoulder gently.

"The kitchen." He replied shortly, continuing on his way. He was stopped by a petite hand.

"Why? Dinner's in a few minutes…"

"Naegion needs dinner too." He replied, trying to continue again. She wouldn't let him go so easily.

"Did you have to—you know…" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Aye." He said, finally stopping.

"How's he doing now?" Meril asked, studying her husband's face closely.

"Much better. His fever has already disappeared almost completely. He's just—not dealing with the loss of his limb too well." Thranduil finished his explanation.

"Could I go see him?" Meril asked, fiddling with her husband's shirt.

"Aye. It would be good for some one to keep him company until I return with food." Thranduil smiled, and then went on his way.

Once he had gotten the food and was heading back, he ran into his son.

"There you are _Ada_!" He said, hugging his father's leg. "When's dinner? I'm hungry." He eyed the plate in Thranduil's hand as he spoke.

"In a few minutes. I have to give Naegion his dinner too." He said, continuing on.

"Can I come too?" Legolas asked, jumping up and down excitedly behind his father. He wanted to meet his new brother.

"I suppose. Just be gentle, he's still hurt too." Thranduil said. He was hoping Naegion didn't get rude when he was upset. He didn't want Legolas' first impression of his new brother to be that way.

Thranduil strode back into the dark room, sitting next to the bed and giving the plate to Meril. Legolas followed his father shyly, hiding behind the elf until they reached the bed, where he peeked out from under his father's cloak. The king pulled Legolas onto his lap, which got Naegion's attention.

"Naegion, I don't think you've ever met my son, Legolas. Legolas, this is Naegion, your new big brother." Unfortunately for Legolas, he had never seen someone who's missing a limb. He stared at it, his mouth even falling open a bit. Naegion glared at him, hiding the appendage under the covers again. "Legolas, be polite; don't stare." Thranduil whispered, hoping Naegion hadn't heard. He didn't seem to, but continued to glare at Legolas until the elfling looked down at his hands.

"So much for a good start…" Thranduil muttered as Meril helped Naegion eat. Thranduil carried his son out of the room to get him some dinner too. Hopefully they would get used to each other over time…

I apologize again; that was a little over half as long as usual… It's because I suck at transitions… The next part doesn't transition well directly from this…


	5. A Real Adventure

Ooh hoo hoo

Note: ten years, to an elf's maturity, would be like four years for a human. I calculated this because of how Tolkien said that an elf reached its full maturity at fifty. If anyone knows more on this, don't be shy, tell me I'm wrong. And if you know how it really goes (according to Tolkien, mind you) then I'd love to hear from you. So like, when I said that Suithór's youngest older brother is twenty years older than him, it's the same as him being eight years older in looks and such.

Tears of Blood

Chapter Five: A Real Adventure

_About ten years later…_

Legolas squirmed in his spot in the tree. He was waiting for it; he knew his prey would come around the corner at any time, now. If he wanted to catch it, he had to be quick.

He tensed up as the soft sound of pattering feet reached his sharp ears. He got ready. Someone flashed around the corner, running right under the tree. Legolas jumped.

"Gotcha!" He cried right as he came toppling on top of his target.

"Darn it!" Suithór laughed as he sat up. "Come on, get off, I've got to get Hweston now!" Legolas laughed, pushing himself off his friend. The elf ran off down the lane towards where he could hear the giggling of his friend. Legolas took off after him, just to see if Hweston could outsmart the elf.

When he got around the corner, neither of them was in sight. He looked around the garden. The flowers were all but gone; winter was coming very soon. The leaves were all over the ground, mixed around by the strong wind. Legolas' hair whipped into his face as it picked up again. He started to continue to look for his friends, but then he realized something. The garden was a dead-end.

_Uh oh…_ This wasn't the first time this had happened. Last time it happened, his friends had jumped out of the trees about now and surprised him. He heard a slight giggle behind him, and he knew he had been tricked again. He didn't have time to react though, as the two elves jumped out of the tree, tackling him.

"Get his arms!" Hweston laughed as they rolled in a heap. They ended up with Suithór holding Legolas' arms down, who was on his back with Hweston sitting on his stomach. Hweston pulled his hand back, his fingers crooked like claws.

"No, no don't!" Legolas cried just before Hweston brought his hand down, tickling his friend. That was one of Legolas' biggest weaknesses; he was very ticklish. "No, Hwest, stop it!" He giggled, trying to get up, only using his legs. It didn't work for a while. He finally took all his weight, and rolled over. The force was enough to twist Suithór off of his arms, and put him on top of Hweston's stomach.

"Ha!" Legolas said close to Hweston's face as he pinned the elf's arms down. Legolas studied his friend's face, while still laughing. The elf still had big, white scars across the right side of his face from the wargs. It was a constant reminder to all three of them to be more careful and aware.

"Now what are you gonna do? You know I'm not ticklish!" Hweston taunted Legolas. Legolas knew he was right; Hweston wasn't ticklish at all. Legolas was pretty sure it was because the elf had more scars from the wargs on his sides where they had tried to tickle him before, but he was too shy to ask. It seemed rude to ask such a thing.

"Hmm…" Legolas thought from his seat on Hweston's stomach. Suithór was sitting up now, but he had decided to turn on his former ally and changed to Legolas' partner. Legolas' grin spread across his face as he thought of something. "Aye, but I know what you can't stand…" Legolas got some spit into his mouth, leaning directly over Hweston's face.

"No, no, no!" Hweston struggled, but his grin didn't disappear. Legolas let the spit drip slowly onto his friend's face. Suithór was rolling around on the ground, laughing hysterically. "_Ew, grooooooss!_" Hweston groaned as Legolas let him go. He pawed at his face, wiping the spit off and onto his shirt. "You dirty little—little… _yrch_!" (orc) Hweston lunged at his friend in mock-anger.

"Hey!" Suithór joined in the brawl. The three of them rolled around the garden, getting sticks and leaves and dirt all in their hair and on their clothes.

"Hey, what are you three doing?" A voice made them stop. The three of them looked up. They must have looked pretty funny. Suithór had Hweston by the legs, who had Legolas in a headlock and was rubbing his head roughly with his knuckle.

"Um, nothing…" Legolas said, realizing it was Naegion. None of them moved, though.

"That's some pretty strange looking 'nothing' you're doing there." The elf said with a sly grin. The three let go of each other, standing and trying to brush the leaves from their clothes. "Your _Adar_ sent me to tell you it's time for dinner, though I think you may want to wash up before you come." Naegion said, his grin not leaving his lips. Naegion had never fully adapted, and never called Thranduil _his_ father. He called him 'uncle' or 'Thranduil', or 'Uncle Thranduil'. The elf had given him permission to call him '_Adar_' or "Father', but he never did.

"Yeah, I should probably go too…" Hweston grinned sheepishly, waving to his friends as he disappeared around the corner. Suithór followed with a smile at Legolas. Legolas sighed, following his cousin into the palace.

Legolas rushed into his room, quickly running some water over his tangled hair and dirty face. He changed his clothes quickly, and then brushed his hair speedily.

He slipped into the dinning room unnoticed; when the entire court was present it wasn't hard to go unnoticed. He slipped into his seat next to his mother, finally noticed.

"There you are, Legolas." She said with a smile. Legolas hardly noticed as he piled his plate high with food.

He ate quickly, not paying much attention to the conversations. He did catch something about orcs and spiders and needing assistance from others, but he didn't pay much attention to it, and soon left to find his friends again.

Then, after dinner, he played with Hweston and Suithór until Hweston's father came and sent them all home. When he got home, his father and Naegion were in the sitting room, talking. They stopped when he entered. He tried to slip past, but his father stopped him.

"Legolas, come here." Legolas obeyed, stepping timidly towards his father. "How would you like to go on a little trip with Naegion?" He asked. Legolas was thrown off by the question. "_Havo dad_," (sit down) Thranduil motioned to a seat. "We're having trouble with spiders and orcs coming too close to the borders. I was wondering if you would like to go with Naegion and a few others to go take the message to Lorien that we're in need of assistance." Thranduil laid out the proposition. His real intentions were for Legolas to stay in Rivendell until they had forced the orcs back enough that it was safer to live, but he knew Legolas wouldn't be so excited about that idea. If he made it sound like an adventure, Legolas just might say yes. "So; would you like to go?"

Legolas nodded quickly, as if he was afraid the offer would expire in a few seconds.

"Good, then. You'll leave in two days." Thranduil smiled, patting his son on the head as he left the room. Legolas looked over at Naegion, who kept an expressionless countenance, as usual. Legolas turned, going to bed. He was so excited, he could hardly sleep. He would finally get to go on a little adventure!

For the next two days, Legolas couldn't stop talking about the trip. Suithór and Hweston soon got tired of it, but were kind about it; they knew it would stop soon enough.

Soon enough, it was the morning they were leaving. It was quite chilly; the snows would come soon. The sky was just starting to turn pink with light as they gathered at the gates. There were five other soldiers accompanying them.

"Promise me you'll be careful, tithen pen nin." (my little one(?)) The queen said softly to her son.

"I will, _Nana_." He said confidently. Legolas felt older now that he was getting to leave like this. His mother hugged him, and then hugged her nephew, who was like another son to her. Legolas trotted over to the horse he was sharing with Galu, his tutor. The raven-headed elf helped him to mount, and then jumped up behind the prince. He was one of the few who shared the secret of the elfling's identity.

"May the Valar be with you." His father said, patting his son's leg before they took off. Legolas looked back as the palace disappeared behind them. Then he looked forward again, taking in the wind and the trees. He closed his eyes, letting the wind blow his hair in every direction. This was his first real adventure, and he was already enjoying it. Little did he know, any adventure can turn into a misadventure with the turn of a corner…

Oh look at that… Another cliff-hanger… I'm addicted to suspense…


	6. Orcs!

Okay, once again, thanks to everybody for your support.

And I am so so _so_ _so SO_ sorry for my loooooooong absence. I've been so _so __so SO_ very busy recently. Now, my brother's gone for a week, and I'll have complete access to the computer, so I'll try to get out a couple chapters to try to make up for the loss. My apologies once again.

Tears of Blood

Chapter Six: Orcs!

Legolas tried to stretch his legs from his seat on the horse's back. They had been riding for about three days now and the excitement was wearing off as he watched the seemingly endless trees rush by.

"Are we going to stop soon?" He asked, turning to look at Galu who seemed to Legolas not to be getting even the least bit sore from all the riding.

"Aye, just be patient, _Ernil nin_ (My Prince) we'll take a break soon enough." He gave the prince a tight smile. Legolas sighed and returned his gaze to the path ahead that seemed to keep coming and coming out of nowhere. They continued to ride on in silence for a while before the scout ahead came riding back with haste and urgency.

"_Yrch!" _ He yelled, drawing his saber. Legolas heard Galu gasp behind him as most of the other elves, including Naegion began drawing their weapons. The older elf dismounted as the rest of them charged forward to meet the creatures.

"I want you to get out of here. Go back a little ways and hide. If I don't come find you by midday, I want you to go back to the palace, okay?" He explained quickly, patting the horse's back. She started to trot forward, but Legolas stopped her.

"But Galu—"

"No, not now! Go, Legolas!" Galu gave the horse a harder slap and she quickly sped into a run down the lane. Legolas looked behind him as Galu's figure disappeared in the intimidating trees. He slowed the horse to a trot as the noises of battle slowly began to fade. Then he thought he heard another noise. As he tried to focus on it, he realized it sounded like a small animal. It wasn't until too late that he realized what it was.

He let out a short yelp as the orc's deformed figure wrapped around him, toppling him to the ground. The horse went berserk, her hooves flying out wildly. Legolas was thankful as they landed on the orc's helmet, knocking him off his back for a minute, but the horse didn't calm at all, and continued stamping wildly, landing another stomp on Legolas' back. He let out a cry as he felt the wind whoosh out of him, leaving him gasping for air. Once he was breathing normally again, he looked up to find that the orc was now standing above him, his jagged sword raised. In a split second, the elf rolled over, pulling out his blades as he did so. The orc's sword came down on the dirt with a _thump!_

"Come 'ere, you li-le…" Legolas flinched at the violent curses the orc threw at him before charging into combat with the creature. Thankfully, the orc was rather dazed from the crack on the head, and Legolas had his twin blades in the monster's chest in no time. Once he had flicked the orc's black blood from his blades, it only took him a few short minutes to decide what to do next. He abandoned the still terrified horse, running back the way he had come. He had to help Galu and Naegion, or try to at least.

It wasn't long before he spotted them through the trees. He sped on, noticing that more than half of the elves were down. There was only three left, two of which were Galu and Naegion. Legolas threw himself into the combat, finding that there were about seven orcs left. He was so focused on fighting, he didn't even notice as the others fell around him.

Legolas faced the last orc, who had almost crossed eyes and crooked teeth. They were locked in combat for a few quick minutes; Legolas feeling like his arms would fall off if he had to do this much longer. He sort of got lost in the rhythm of it, until he was pulled out of his thought by a sharp pain in his shoulder. He dropped one of his blades in surprise. The orc began to chuckle with a gravelly laugh. Legolas took the diversion to thrust his remaining weapon into the creature's face. The fiend's chuckling was cut short by a scream of pain as he toppled over.

The prince let out a sigh of relief as he realized that it was over; the orcs were gone. His relief quickly turned into panic as he noticed that not only was there no more orcs standing with him there, but there was also no elves standing with him.

"No…" He gasped shakily as he returned his knife to its sheath. Legolas trotted over to where he spotted Galu's body. "Galu…" The elf had a long sword straight though his chest, which was still being held by a dead, twisted orc.

"Hmm…?" The older elf stirred, opening his eyes to the noise. "Legolas? What… are you doing… here?" He choked out between breaths.

"I… I fell, and—there was an orc… and…" Legolas stuttered as he felt hot tears welling up in his eyes. It was rather obvious that his tutor wasn't going to get up from this one.

"Legolas… you have to… go back… go back home…" The elf choked out.

"No, I don't want to leave you…" Legolas shook his head stubbornly as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You… have to… these orcs… are just scouts… more are coming… it's dangerous… to be here…" Galu stopped to cough a bit.

"No, but they'll hurt you!" Legolas protested as he grabbed Galu's hand. It felt cold.

"It… doesn't matter… I'm going to… pass on anyway…" The older elf reached his other hand up weakly, pulling Legolas' head down to him and kissed his forehead. "Now; go! You must… make haste…"

"But—"

"Go! They are… upon us!" Legolas realized that he was right; the orcs could be heard now, crashing noisily through the forest. The little elf whimpered, squeezing his tutor's hand quickly before he reluctantly trotted off, though not without looking back one more time.

"What's this?" A large orc asked as he surveyed the sight in the small clearing. "Our scouts stumbled upon something, did they?" His deep voice filled the area.

"Aye, but 'oo won dis 'un?" A smaller orc wondered.

"Looks like a tie." The leader decided. "Oh, but what's this?" He said, stepping over to where Galu still drew painful breaths. "Looks like this one's damage is beyond repair." He said with a rough chuckle. "Guess we should put it out of its misery…" Galu turned his head away as the orc pulled out a thick spear. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a pale face watching in the trees nearby…

The orc thrust the spear into the elf's neck, a twisted smile appearing on his face as the blood oozed out.

"Take all you can find, then we'll continue on." The taller orc said as he pulled his spear back and ordered them to keep moving.

Thankfully, none of the orcs caught the sound of the elfling in the trees as he tried to muffle his sobs in his retreat.

As he looked up, all he could see was black. He moaned, trying to reach his face. He found that there was something on top of him, holding his arms down. Throwing all his weight and strength (the bit he had left) on the thing crushing him, he sat up, freeing his hand and other arm. Naegion now realized that it had only been black because of the dead orc on top of him. The little bit of light from the quickly sinking sun lit the deserted battle-field with an eerie orange light. It didn't even feel real.

Naegion tried to stand, but stopped as pain ripped down from his right shoulder to his right waist. He let himself fall back to the ground, hoping it would lighten up a bit. When it didn't, he decided to try again.

After some effort, he managed to sit up again and see if anyone had survived. He looked around, trying to spot the Mirkwood elves in the mess of orcs. He counted them off slowly in his muddled head, finding, to his horror, all of those who accompanied him except Legolas. One the one hand that meant Legolas was probably still alive. On the other hand, he could have been taken by orcs…

Naegion shook his head quickly; and immediately regretted it. He had to wait a few extra minutes to let the pain die down before he tried to stand again. Grabbing his sword and sticking it his sheath, he walked towards one of the dead elves; there would probably be something in the pack he could use.

Unfortunately, all he found after searching all of the packs was a single loaf of lembas and some bandages. Someone had already been through them all… Unsure of anything else to do, Naegion sat down again and pulled his shirt off to inspect his wound.

The cut wasn't too deep, but it was bleeding pretty badly. Using the bandages he had found, Naegion quickly wrapped his torso before putting his bloody and torn shirt back on.

_Back home, then…_ He decided in his head, then started heading in that direction. As he left the area, he tripped over something. After closer inspection he realized it was one of Legolas' blades.

"Now how did that get there…?" He mumbled, tucking the knife in his belt, and continuing. He was a little too disoriented to think about that right now.

It wasn't long before the sun sank completely and it was utterly dark. The moon was out, but it was hard to see it from under the trees. Naegion continued to stumble along, now unsure if he was even heading in the right direction.

After doing this for a while, he bumped into something. He panicked, drawing his sword quickly and pointing it at the thing. He was sure he was a goner now; it was orc. He knew it.

But instead of attacking, the orc snorted and neighed softly. Naegion slipped his saber back into its sheath, feeling rather stupid. It was a horse. Galu's horse, if he wasn't mistaken. He shook his head, but then mounted; maybe the horse could get back even in this dark. Naegion sighed tiredly as he slumped on the horse's back. He hoped this wouldn't be a long ride; his wound was pounding like crazy and he wanted some water. But he knew the palace was at least two, maybe three days' ride away.

So, as the horse walked forward, he tried to relax and imagine that he was in his own bed for a while. That didn't work too well.

At some point, he fell asleep, and when we woke up, he found himself falling from the horse's back. He hit the ground with a grunt, letting himself go limp. He lay there a minute, looking up at the light from the moon which filtered in slightly in a crack in the leaves above. It was like a candle in a large, dark room, lost in the sea of black.

Naegion then realized that the horse was either eating something, or nudging something. He took a closer look, finding the horse's snout in a pile of leaves, but there was something else in the leaves. After an even closer inspection, he saw that it was a small being, wearing green and brown, and he also had medium-length, raven hair.

"Legolas…" He breathed in relief. After he had found the blade on the ground, he had feared the worst. Unsure of what else to do, Naegion curled up in the leaves next to his cousin, wrapping his arms around the younger. He slowly fell asleep, the pounding pain down his torso making it rather difficult…


End file.
